“Liberty Studies: Political and Metaphysical”

Carrie-Ann Biondi

Assistant Professor of Philosophy

Dept. of Philosophy and Religious Studies

MarymountManhattanCollege

Delivered at the First Annual Liberty Studies Conference, April 6, 2008

(DRAFT: Please do not cite without permission of the author)

I. Introduction

Canvassing the web for syllabi and descriptions for courses centrally concerned with liberty or freedom, one finds something interesting beyond the fact that there are few results. I selected about a dozen syllabiout of over two hundred possible candidates that came even remotely close to what I envisioned. When such courses are offered, they nearly always cover either political freedom broadly (usually during the modern and contemporary periods) or focus on a special topic in the law, such as freedom of expression, intellectual freedom, or liberty-limiting principles. It is rare for them implicitly to incorporate materials that have the students go beyond the legal and political dimensions. And there is decidedly little to no explicit connection drawn for the students between metaphysical/psychological and political freedom. For the former, students need to turn to courses in action theory, free will, or moral psychology, none of which I found explore the implications for political thought. I contend that courses in Liberty Studies are incomplete and even misleading when they fail to integrate both the political and metaphysical/psychological dimensions of liberty.

My thesis about teaching Liberty Studies is driven by the following claims that I will speak to before turning to a defense of a model Liberty Studies syllabus: (1) Allegedly “neutral” conceptions of political liberty or freedom actually presuppose some non-neutral view of the self—whether it be broadly Aristotelian, Kantian, or Humean in nature. (2) A theorist’s view of the self shapes issues in his political thought ranging from how legitimacy is secured to the proper functions and scope of the state. (3) Different views of the self have radically different ways of giving meaning to and grounding the moral value of political freedom. The remainder of my presentation shall be devoted to explicating the rationale behind my model syllabus for Liberty Studies (a version of which I taught in Fall 2004).

II. Why Is Liberty Studies Done Improperly?

Why the seeming dearth of good courses on Liberty Studies? I have a few hypotheses. The first hypothesis is that many instructors use an anthology rather than whole texts or carefully constructed course packets. This is the case for various reasons, ranging from inexperience to a last-minute need for a book order at the eleventh hour to a satisfaction with the anthologized selections. Such anthologies typically contain excerpts of works that cover only the political freedom portion of the texts. For example, a classic way of including the thought of Thomas Hobbes is to start—as James Sterba does as the editor of the popular anthology Social and Political Philosophy—with chapter 13 of Hobbes’ Leviathan with its memorable line that in the state of nature “the life of man [is] solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”[1] Leaping into Hobbes this way, though, does not allow students to see that this impetus to flee the state of nature into the arms of the sovereign is grounded in Hobbes’ materialist psychology and his view that humans are essentially driven by certain passions to which reason is simply a slave. Few anthologies, such as David Wootton’s, start from the very beginning of Leviathan.[2] These less frequently produced anthologies provide for the opportunity of greater depth of study, though often at the expense of exposure to a greater number of thinkers (or at the monetary expense of producing a mammoth volume).

Regardless of the motivations that some instructors have for adopting the typical sort of anthology, one needs to ask why anthologies are constructed in impoverished ways to begin with and why so many instructors seem to be satisfied with this sort of product. Grappling with this issue leads me to hypotheses two and three. The second is that there is a widely shared assumption about human rationality that is articulated best by economists (though also shared by many political theorists):

Where consequences are certain and costs are equal, a rational agent chooses by the measure of what outcome he or she most prefers. Where they are not, the agent chooses among options by calculating the probable net benefits of each. Rationality is thus a matter of means, not of ends. It is a relation of consistency between preferences, information and action.[3]

In an important sense, this view of rationality maintains that it doesn’t really matter what substantive beliefs about the human self and psychology one claims to start with, since it all really boils down to subjective-preference theory in the end anyway.

The third hypothesis is that many instructorsendorse the view made popular by John Rawls that one can be neutral in political theorizing between competing theories of metaphysics or ethics, or adopt a “thin” versus a “thick” theory of the good. It is thus not a matter of accepting economics’ view of the self and reducing all other theories to that one; instead, it wouldn’t matter where one stands on metaphysical/psychological conceptions of freedom. One could just go ahead and discuss political freedom and the conditions needed to bring about and sustain it.

Roughly, those who consider themselves to be either politically liberal or champions in some form of liberty and tolerance align themselves on the side of a thin theory of the good, while those who consider themselves to be politically conservative (of either the religious or cultural varieties) are more willing to defend a thick theory of the good. The former claim to minimize (if not eliminate) the role of morality in politics and thus maximize freedom, typically by means of appealing to an “overlapping consensus.” The latter would like to use the enforcement mechanisms of law to ensure adherence to a specific theory of the good with the price of constricting freedom.

The literature in political philosophy on the thick versus thin theories of the good debate is a growing one[4] that had its origins with Rawls’s A Theory of Justice:

[I]n justice as fairness the concept of right is prior to that of the good. In contrast with teleological theories, something is good only if it fits into ways of life consistent with the principles of right already on hand. But to establish these principles it is necessary to rely on some notion of goodness, for we need assumptions about the parties’ motives in the original position. Since these assumptions must not jeopardize the prior place of the concept of right, the theory of good used in arguing for the principles of justice is restricted to the barest essentials. This account of the good I call the thin theory. . . . Rational individuals, whatever else they want, desire certain things as prerequisites for carrying out their plans of life. Other things equal, they prefer a wider to a narrower liberty and opportunity, and a greater rather than a smaller share of wealth and income. That these things are good seems clear enough.[5]

Upon placing the right over the good in political theory and stating that justice as fairness (i.e., the right) involves no more than a “thin theory of the good,” Rawls constructs two political principles—the liberty principle and the difference principle. He thinks that these principles of political liberalism are “political, not metaphysical,”[6] and as such can garner an “overlapping consensus” from otherwise “conflicting reasonable comprehensive doctrines.”[7] We need not fear, he argues, that deep conflict or instability will ensue—even in the face of “the fact of reasonable pluralism”—because persons will have accepted the “thin” principles of political justice based on reasons accessible to them from within their competing comprehensive doctrines and will believe that it is “unreasonable for us to use political power . . . to repress comprehensive views that are not unreasonable.”[8]

What can be gleaned from this highly compressed summary of Rawls’s view is, first, he associates the thin theory of the good with minimal rationality conditions that dictate what is required for the pursuit of any life plan and thick theories of the good with comprehensive doctrines, which themselves are specific visions of the good life that incorporate very controversial (though somehow still reasonable) metaphysical and moral claims. Second, we can also discern what motivates and is alluring about the thick versus thin theories of the good distinction and the favoring of the latter over the former in politics: fear of repression and desire for toleration of one’s beliefs and practices. Many people want some way of creating peaceful political societies where they can be left largely to their own business believing whatever they feel comfortable believing without challenge or persecution. A political society based on a thin theory of the good promises people that peace and tolerance of differences is more likely attainable under this sort of a system than under a “thicker” one.

Not every peace- and security-loving person, though, is convinced that Rawls’s political liberalism is the best way of manifesting freedom. Wary of how extensive Rawls’s principles of justice (in particular, the “difference principle” with its requirements of welfare rights) might extend into the lives of individuals, some other liberal political theorists strive to make the political good even “thinner” by either significantly restraining or entirely doing away with welfare rights in favor of promoting the liberty principle. This category includes theorists such as Robert Nozick, David Gauthier, Jan Narveson, and Loren Lomasky.[9] What it means to be free is thus a contested concept, and this is a contestation which cannot be swept under the carpet of alleged political neutrality.

The thick versus thin theories of the good distinction is saddled with a difficulty that has two aspects. First, to the extent that the thin theory is as thin as its advocates claim it to be, there are going to be animosities roiling below the surface between conflicting comprehensive doctrines. Take, for example, deep differences manifested in seemingly endless public and legal disputes over abortion, prayer in schools, same-sex marriages, PETA’s spraying of fur coats while people are wearing them, and so on. In order to minimize such conflicts, these incidents are often depicted as the work of “extremists” who refuse to uphold tolerance. Many comprehensive doctrines (or “forms of life”) are then watered down to mildly quaint and banal practices for the sake of tolerant accommodation of living with others, which is hardly a toleration of diverse beliefs and practices.

A second aspect of this difficulty is that the “thin” theories are not really thin. There isin factacceptance of some substantive account, since they each presuppose some view of the human good that needs justification. Their departure points depend on different conceptions of the self and theories of value. Despite claims made to the contrary, each theorist mentioned above relies on various metaphysical and moral claims about man’s nature and human moral psychology. On what do we base the claim that life, liberty, and property should be protected? Which conceptions of life, liberty, and property should we protect? Why should we be rational? The answers to such questions can only be derived from what David Kelley calls “an underlying principle . . . . That is, some fundamental end . . . is an ultimate end, the source and standard of all values.”[10] To the extent that liberal political theorists wish to retain the “thinness” of their political theories is the extent to which their theories are groundless, and so vulnerable to someone’s taking them or leaving them. This would be a puzzling outcome, given that such theorists devote their life’s work to the goal of creating and maintaining free, liberal societies. If the values embodied in liberal political theories depend upon a conception of the human good, then how are they any different from what Rawls calls “comprehensive doctrines”? It seems that they wouldn’t be, and so we would have to jettison the thick versus thin theories of the good distinction.

Some might panic at this suggestion and ask, “Can any sense be retained of the thick versus thin theories of the good distinction?” Perhaps. But it will not be the one made familiar to us by Rawls. Rather, it will be transformed into a discussion of various visions of the good, with some having a more (i.e., thicker) and some a less (i.e., thinner) extensive reach into the lives of individuals. This would be a way of adapting the terminology while retaining some of what we had found important about it in the first place. What is clear now, though, regardless of how the terminology is adapted, is that a political society will need to embody a vision of the good, which itself needs justification in order to provide content to its main concepts and to provide reasons that can engage one’s rational consent. The issue then becomes one of providing a good justification for the robust values of life, liberty, and property extolled by free, liberal political societies. This brings us into the contested terrain of metaphysical and moral theorizing that Rawls wanted to avoid, but which cannot be skirted. And this brings us to the terrain requisite for doing justice to Liberty Studies.

III. Who Gets Close and How?

Of the dozen or so syllabi I alluded to above that made the first cut, only five were ultimately promising as approximations for a Liberty Studies course. I sort these five syllabi into two categories: those that implicitly incorporate texts that contain both metaphysical/psychological and political freedom and those that explicitly do so. The four syllabi that do so implicitly (by Michael Munger, David Schmidtz, Kathleen Wright, and Richard Polt[11]) reveal this by means of text selection. Popular texts include John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice; Robert Nozick’s Anarchy, State, and Utopia; Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, Friedrich Nietzsche’s The Genealogy of Morals; Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s On the Social Contract; and Aristotle’s Politics; among others. These syllabi do not have explicit mention of the connection between the two realms of freedom in the course descriptions or objectives, nor is such a connection obvious in the reading schedules. It could potentially be drawn out in class discussion of the readings.

The one syllabus that does so explicitly (by Loren Lomasky[12]) has the connection identified in the course description as well as in the text selection:

What is liberty? Is it just being left alone by others? Or is it a capacity to achieve valuable ends? These do not amount to the same thing. Someone who isn’t interfered with by others may nonetheless lack other requisites for leading a satisfying, meaningful life: money, health, power, etc. Suppose further that one is able to secure her desired ends, but that upbringing and environment have conditioned her such that she is psychologically incapable of formulating aspirations that express her own individuality. Might we say that whatever the circumstances of her external conditions, she resides in an internal straightjacket that deprives her of liberty? . . . Beyond the problem of stating what liberty is, there are additional important ones involving its place within morality and politics. What sort of government best promotes a society of free individuals? Is the ideal of liberty incompatible with other ideals such as equality and well-being? Are some species of liberties categorically more important than others: for example, freedom of speech or religion as opposed to a freedom to buy and sell?

The connectionbetween different realms of freedom could also possibly come out in the examination of the texts, but this is hard to tell because Lomasky’s reading schedule does not distinguish between them. As with the other four courses, the connection in this one could be drawn out in class discussion of the readings—and it very likely would be, given that the connection is identified in the course description.
An important point to note about these five syllabi is that all five make use of whole texts (anywhere from three to five in each course) with a couple of the courses supplementing a few whole texts with several carefully selected articles and/or chapters of books. The selection of only a few whole texts (supplemented by selected articles) ensures that there is the depth of coverage necessary for understanding how each theorist integrates metaphysics, moral psychology, ethics, politics, and law in the study of freedom. In addition, there is sufficient variety of theorists so that students can appreciate some diverse perspectives on the topic.

IV. A Liberty Studies Syllabus Defended

I would now like to turn to how we can cull out the best that these five syllabi have to offer, add a couple of other key ingredients, and devise a model syllabus for a Liberty Studies course. There certainly are different ways of breathing life into a Liberty Studies course, so I should emphasize that the particular theorists, selections, time period, and assignments are meant to be illustrative rather than definitive of good things to include in such a course. One limitation on the specific syllabus I am presenting is that it was a theme-based approach to teaching a course on Modern Thought, hence my beginning with Locke and spending a good deal of time in the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries. Given that there is latitude for variation, it is crucial to articulate the key elements that comprise any good Liberty Studies syllabus. I think that there are three: (1) an explicit identification in the course description of an integrated approach to Liberty Studies, (2) the use of at least some whole texts, and (3) a distinct (and distinctly identified in the syllabus) exploration of each realm of freedom prior to crowning the course with a unified whole text.